And when I had reached the end of myself, Jesus met me. He met me when I moved from New York to Texas by myself, without my family, as a sixteen year old girl. He met me in my bedroom when I called my parents crying that I wanted to come home. He met me when I felt forgotten and alone, when I felt like life was on permanent pause. It was when the sunlight pierced through my window and in the deafening silence of my bedroom thinking nobody cared about my existence that Jesus, the Prince of Peace, met me there and whispered, “I do”.